


Every Day Is Like Survival

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drag Queens, M/M, POV First Person, Pizza, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 09:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4216746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pizza delivery guy Gojyo's finished his work for the night--at least until the pretty face in the backseat tells him otherwise.</p><p>Written for a prompt at Weiss vs. Saiyuki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Day Is Like Survival

Here's the thing about delivering pizza. You get out of visiting the shitty unemployment office. You get to see lots of people. It keeps you out of unemployment, and sometimes the tips are great--a fifty-dollar bill from a couple who'd just got engaged, a thick joint from a frat party.

But it doesn't pay for shit, and half the time people don't even tip. You're just a pair of hands, a fleshy robot handing over a box. It's murder on your car. Anyone with half a brain would ditch the job and find something else. Anything else.

But I guess I'm just that stupid.

I could've started washing dishes, working in the kitchen. But it was hot, and you got yelled at all the time, and at least in the car you could put your own music on. And shit, I liked it. I liked charming people with the right smile, making the order in fifteen minutes or less. They even gave me a plaque one time, fastest deliveries in the whole region. Gold star, Danny. Gold fucking star.

So there I was, making one of those damn fast deliveries, end of the night's run, twenty dollar tip for being just that fucking good. Top of the world. Good night. Get back into the car, start the engine, here we go. I'm halfway back to Pepino's when I hear the voice in my back seat.

"I'm sorry about this." The voice sounded like smoke, and I couldn't place if it was a man's or a woman's. "But would you mind dropping me off somewhere?"

I'd almost slammed on the brakes. "What the fuck?" I said. "Are you trying to get us both killed?"

"Well, ah...that's a good question," the voice said. "But no. I just need a ride and I'm afraid you were convenient."

"Yeah, I ain't allowed to take passengers."

"I do have a gun." He--I thought it was a he, though I still wasn't sure--was almost apologetic about it. "I assume in those circumstances you're allowed to breach protocol."

"Yeah," he said. "I guess I am." Shit. They told you all the time what to do for robbers. A guy with a gun who politely asked to be dropped off wasn't in the instructions. I figured I'd do the same thing as I would for a robber. Just in case.

Though it was asking for trouble, I glanced in the rearview mirror.

And then I was really in trouble.

She was perfect. Red hot lipstick, sexy little glasses, hair piled on her head in a messy bun. There was a drag night once a week at the resort where I'd made my last delivery. One of the performers had some kind of hot librarian thing going, my friend Todd had tried to talk me into going before. Looking at her, I sure as fuck wished I'd listened to him. "Marian?"

"Don't you think it's safer if we don't use names?"

"Probably," I said. "But I already got a beautiful chick with a gun in my car, so maybe I'm not that safe."

"Maybe not," she conceded. She pursed her cherry lips. "I don't want you involved in my problems, though."

"I'm just gonna remind you that _you_ hopped in my fucking car. I'm already involved."

She sighed. "You can call me Marian," she said. "I suppose I'll have to give up this career anyway."

"Find a new look at least."

"It's too bad," she said. "I got very good tips with this character."

"I bet you did," I said. She looked hot as hell even in the flashes of light from the streetlamps. I kept glancing back at her, thinking about what it'd be like to get my hands all over her. What _he'd_ look like underneath once you wiped off that lipstick.

"I just would like you to drop me off, that's all. The train station. It's on your way."

I already knew it wasn't to be that easy. "Train doesn't go through until morning."

"I'll be fine."

"Someone's looking for you, they're gonna check the train station," I said. "Don't be stupid." Yeah, it was brilliant giving good advice to the guy holding a gun on me. What can I say? He was pretty. And...I don't know. I had a feeling. "Where else can you go?"

"I've gone and burned every bridge," he said.

"Well, Marian," I said. "You hide out in the back seat, I'll get you to my place for the night."

"I'm sure that's not a good idea."

"Yeah, that makes two of us. You got any better ideas?"

Silence. "Yeah," I said. "That's what I thought."

"It was a good job," he said, after a while. "I'll miss it."

"Speaking of. I gotta stop at Pepino's, cash out for the night."

"What do you have to guarantee you won't call the police on me?"

I put on my turn signal, changed lanes. "You think they'll believe I have a hot drag queen with a pistol hanging out in the back of my car?"

"'Hot?'"

"Shut up," I said. It was already like that, between us. I couldn't explain why. "I won't," I said, and for whatever reason--maybe 'cause he was as stupid as I was--he believed me. He ducked down in the back when I cashed out, counted out my tips for the night, headed home.

It was only when we got back to my place I realized he'd been bleeding out all over my back seat. But that's a story for another day.


End file.
